. . .had the kind of personality that ignited those fireflies a long time ago. He was always attired in black, styling and profiling from head to toe. He stepped with confidence and swag, his posture straight and tall. He was gifted with those finely tuned abs and biceps.
. . . had a chilled-out body language that oozed calmness and a can-do, I’m-the-man attitude. He kept abreast of worldly issues—could hold onto any topic. His smarts were stimulated when he was tucked away behind a book, newspaper, or something of interest. He was always exercising his brain. And there was nothing like his scent, so aromatic, especially accented with a whiff of his manly-smelling cologne. His affectionate ways had taken . . . another high. The warmth of his face brushed against . . .
His tongue swirled wet kisses . . . And the tantalizing touches of his manly hand . . . as he lightly caressed with his fingertips . . . Those times he’d wink, as if offering a flirty word or two. He’d turn the corner of his lip and flash that sexy, wicked, sweet smile—which would make those butterflies flutter.
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